Julietta's Dressup - 220 Chapter 220. Infectious Disease, Part XIII

The cousin that Jing Huan has been closest to since he was a child was labelled as “the other woman” in a certain popular online game: only after devoting herself did she know that the other party was a jerk with a girlfriend.

“Ji Xiao Li” Chen Yu Bai pressed the body under him and gritted his teeth, “What exactly did I owe you in my past life?”

“I…don’t…know..but you don’t know too? Aren’t you a fortune teller?”

At this instant, even the thousand years ice jade bed under them can feel the chill emitted by this man.

“I am the Grand Tutor! Great Divination Master! Don’t call me a fortune teller!”

- Description from Novelupdates

(Warning: This novel has an r18 tag and contains mature content.)Adyr, once a notorious serial killer, met a brutal end and welcomed death as the final judgment for his sins.But he awoke in a parallel Earth, where the rich alter their genes and superhumans are the norm.Believing some unknown force had given him a second chance, Adyr buried the monster within and chose a quiet, normal life.For eighteen years, he lived in poverty with his family, suppressing his urges and forcing himself to be human.Until the day he entered a new VRMMORPG.A game that doesn’t just alter virtual stats but mutates real genes and pushes players toward evolution.And with every evolution, his bloodlust surfaced again, turning him back into the villain he once was.

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”